If I Ever Cross Your Mind
by Jayneysuk
Summary: Boyd gets an invitation in the post which brings him face to face with an old friend. It's been a year and its not quite a hearts and flowers reunion. Early chapters will be a K rating, but later ones could be anything up to and including an M.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: If I Ever Cross Your Mind  
Pairing: Grace and Boyd  
Rating: k for now, but later chapters may warrant a higher rating  
Summary: It's been a year Boyd, twelve months, maybe we should talk about why you disappeared from my life, or maybe you could just explain to me why the hell I'd want to let you walk back in without so much as a by or leave.  
Spoilers: anything and up to the finale  
Disclaimers: As always the characters do not belong to me, however much I wish they were mine to do as I wished. I play, I return and I gain nothing financial in recompense.**

It has been a while since I have written anything based in this fandom, but as I'm currently re-watching my way through the nine series my muse has been prodded. That and the frustration of song lyrics I just can't get out of my head. I kind of have an idea where this is going, but the chances of it being short and fluffy are fairly unlikely.

-0-0-

When the invitation had arrived in the post he had expected a small intimate affair, with a few of her friends; what he hadn't envisioned was a conference room filled with academics and psychologists. The room was set out with row upon row of chairs in neat little lines, a lectern and overhead projector at the front of the room, more like a lecture hall at the police academy than a swanky hotel room. It shouldn't have surprised him really; she had been lecturing him for years. He was lying of course. When he opened the white envelope with his name neatly typed and found the white card invitation, his initial thought had been to throw it in the nearest rubbish bin. He justified it to himself by arguing that he hated those sort of events, and the fact that she was clearly being polite. The problem was that he didn't throw the damn thing away, instead he had left it lying on the desk, so that he saw it every day, and each day his thoughts drifted to her; was she well, how was she spending her forced retirement, did she wonder about him. Of course he could have picked up the phone and called her, or texted her, or even turned up on her doorstep. In twelve months he had managed to do none of these things, allowing guilt and embarrassment to prevent him taking the first step in fixing whatever he had done to ruin their friendship. So the invitation lay on his desk, taunting him even, and he knew he had to go, had to see her again, if only from a distance, if only to prove to himself that they were unfixable. From that point on it should have been easy, throw on a suit, call a taxi and show up. But Boyd had never made anything easy in his life and a simple reception wasn't about to change that.

Boyd walked through the doors into the hotel lobby and promptly walked back out again, nerves getting the better of him. He had nothing to feel nervous about, he assured himself; she was one of his oldest and closest friends and all he intended to do was loiter at the back of the room, listen to her talk about her latest book, and maybe say hello. Grace was brilliant, funny, charming and even if she was mad at him, she would be polite, say hello, and as long as his gaze didn't linger on her eyes too long he might even convince himself that she would forgive him. The last time he had seen her she had been loading up her car with boxes, and while they had made small talk, neither of had suggested a drink or dinner, or anything else. They had gone their separate ways and the weeks had gone by and then months and before he knew it twelve months had passed since he watched her drive away. It would be lying to say he hadn't missed her, hadn't contemplated calling her, but deep down he was a chicken, fearful of how she would react to his call, fearful that time apart had convinced her that he was merely an amalgamation of all the things she hated about him. He wasn't ready for that so he had allowed their friendship to go untended and now he was left feeling guilty.

Slipping his hands in his pocket, Boyd glanced up and down the street, his eyes finally falling on the pub three doors down. Ten minutes, and a pint for fortification, later, he walked back into lobby, intent on finding the conference room and facing whatever the evening brought. The room was already over half full as he made his way to the refreshment table, his eyes searching for a familiar face amongst the crowd of faces. Recognising no one, he snagged a glass of red wine from the tray and found himself a seat at the back of the room.


	2. Her Big Night

-0-0-

If these first few chapters seem a little short, I apologise, later chapters will be much longer, more intense and hopefully explain everything (I did say hopefully)

-0-0-

"Will you stop fussing!"

Grace turned sharply, arching one eyebrow in the direction of her daughter, her expression slightly bemused. "I thought this was supposed to be my big night."

Sarah took a sharp intake of breath, counting to ten before she spoke, ever mindful of how easily she could rile her mother. "I mean please relax. You can do this."

Her fingers stroked the giant aubergine pendant at her neck as she tried to calm her inner turmoil. Maybe it had been a big mistake listening to her publisher, maybe she wasn't ready to have nearly ten years work scrutinised by her peers. Of course, if she was being honest that wasn't what she feared most. "What if no one comes?"

Her daughter rolled her eyes dramatically, more like her mother than either was willing to admit. "Then we can go to the pub and get blathered."

"Nice, Sarah. Very Supportive. Remind me to never end up as a patient on your ward."

"The room is full, mum. Not a single empty seat." The first time she had ventured out of the small side room the room had been empty, the second time when she went in search of a glass of wine for each of them it had been filling up nicely. When she went a third time to look for the publisher she had been a little awed; her mother had managed to write yet another book on the psychology of murder and fill a room with people who were desperate for her insight. "And I saw Eve and Spence. They said good luck and are going to make sure they are in the front row where you can see them," she said, her tone becoming more forced as she added, "But who knows whether he's granted you an audience."

"Please don't, not tonight," Grace chided wearily. Her daughter despised Boyd. She had her reasons, not all of them without merit, but she didn't want to rehash old arguments, mainly because she didn't have the patience for it but more so because if anyone had the right to hate him it was her, and she couldn't muster an emotion that intense. "I invited them all, Felix and Frankie too. There wouldn't be a book without them."

Sarah took a length sip of wine, pondering arguing that without them the book might not have taken quite so long to make it onto the page. Taking a sideways glance at her mother who was in the process of biting the skin off of her bottom lip, she thought better of it. Lightly she squeezed her arm, offering a small smile. "I'm really proud of you, mum. Dan is too, even if he can't be here."

"Thanks love." She took another lengthy sip of wine before delving into her oversized bag and locating her lipstick. While the book had initially been her way of dealing with the horrors she had seen, harnessing her theories to the cases she had worked, when the unit had been disbanded it had instead become her way of dealing with the emptiness. The problem was now that it was finished she felt more lonely than she had since her husband had walked out the door.

Sensing that her mothers thoughts were drifting away, touching on painful memories that she would never discuss, Sarah placed her glass on the table and opened the door. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Grace acknowledged taking a deep fortifying breath. One hour and it would all be over and she could return to the house that had become her fortress.

"I'll go tell him to introduce you."

"And take your seat."

Her daughter squeezed her arm as she brushed past her. "Good Luck, mum."

Left alone finally, Grace leaned back against the table and closed her eyes. She had sat in tiny rooms across from murders and rapists but the thought of standing at the front of a room justifying her work petrified her. Who was she kidding, she laughed hollowly, it was the anticipation of seeing him again after a year that had her stomach in knots, that and the prospect that he wouldn't show up at all.

"Mum?"

Taking calming breaths, she rose to her feet and made her way towards the desk, either way it would bring what the Americans called closure and maybe she was finally ready for that.

-0-0-


	3. Oblivious

-0-0-

He had been transfixed from the moment she had appeared at the front of the room to a round of applause. Not that that was anything unusual. However nonchalantly he had played it, whatever she may have thought, he always found himself enthralled when she spoke. Of course he hadn't always paid any heed to what she said, but in the deep recesses of his mind he gave her the due she was entitled to. Boyd couldn't help but focus on her appearance first, his eyes giving her the once over, the all too familiar attraction bringing a warmth to his body; it was her mind that attracted him first, and he had to remind himself of that. Her hair had changed, a little red, a little blonde, a little shorter, but that was nothing new, after almost fifteen years of knowing her he had born witness to every style going. The fact that she was wearing heels and a skirt that barely skimmed her knee was new and his gaze couldn't help but linger on her slender calves. Then she had started to speak and she was the same old Grace, his Grace, although he wasn't entirely sure he still had any right to call her that.

Boyd listened intently as she explained the premise of her book, even managing to recognise a term or two, but he became lost in the sound of her voice as she read from the pages, their cases now immortalised in only a way that she could. He could still remember that voice, the cadence as she relayed information, her inflection as her voice rose to meet his in disagreement, the softness of her words as she comforted him. There was nothing he could do as he was transported back to the years spent in a concrete basement, every joy, every sadness shared with her.

The sound of applause, rustling, and chairs scraping, brought him back to the present and he became aware that she had finished speaking, the audience moving about. Stretching slightly to ease the ache from sitting in the same spot for so long, he rose to his feet, following the crowd as they headed towards the bar, his eyes catching sight of her surrounded by people, familiar faces in the midst of it.

The queue at the bar did little to temper his mood. He needed a pint almost as much as he needed an excuse to leave. The door beckoned him as his mind taunted him, questioning why he was so afraid of the inevitable awkwardness that would come with seeing her again, daring him to face up to his fear. As he stood waiting for the barmaid to finally acknowledge him he decided that it was time, that he had been in worse situations, his mind immediately drifting to that first afternoon in the hospital, her holding his hand, begging him to walk away. When the girl finally stood before him he ordered two pints, downing one almost immediately, his throat now parched as he acknowledged that one way or another the evening would decided their fate.

Sipping the dark brown ale he made his way back through the conference room, his eyes scanning the room, finally finding her not far from the make shift stage. He contemplated making his way toward her, changing his mind instantly; better he decided to have her come to him. Why it should matter he didn't know but it did. The cool of the solid wall against his back was comforting, his position near the door giving him the option of running still, but also a good vantage point across the room.

"Are you just going to slip away?" Eve asked, sidling up beside him, her tone laced with dismay. She had noticed him the minute he arrived, his presence never conspicuous in any room and she had made sure to seek him out as soon as she had reassured her friend; his untimely disappearance sure to cloud her friends night.

Boyd shifted position, his back rubbing against the wall as he turned to face his former employee. "This is hardly my scene," he scoffed.

"Not everything is about you Boyd," she reprimanded gently. "It's Grace's big night, and though I don't know why, she wanted you to be here."

He rolled his eyes, prepared to dismiss the younger woman's observation with a casual caustic remark as he generally did, but she stopped him.

"The least you can do is stick around, tell her you look forward to reading the thing and comment on the dedication."

That peaked his interest, a deep vee forming in the centre of his forehead as the words sank in. "Why would I comment on the dedication?" Over the years he had in fact read every book she had ever written, even understanding some of it, but he had rarely commented for fear of sounding stupid.

Eve glanced across the room at her friend, the experienced psychologist, watching as she made polite conversation, and sighed, slightly exasperated. "She didn't send you a copy?" Of course she didn't, she mused, because that would have been too simple, and as she considered it a little more deeply, would have probably meant he would have declined the invitation.

He folded his arms across his body, suddenly uncomfortable. His eyes tracked the star of the evening, radiance glowing from her face as she chatted animatedly. She looked comfortable and he knew she would be anything but. Briefly he wondered if the bar was any less busy because he was going to need another drink before she finally made her way to him. "No, she expects me to fork out £14.99 for a copy like everyone else."

"Wait here." Eve made her way through the academics still loitering in the hall until she found Sarah. With the briefest of explanations, and no mention of who the book was for, she managed to extract a copy. She returned a few minutes later, a large hard covered book open in her hands. "Read it."

His eyes drifted down to the page as though with a mind of their own, quietly mouthing the words, once, twice, a third time. He finally lifted his eyes to almost meet hers. "Oh."

"And in case you're still oblivious to the fact, she's talking about you." Oblivious seemed to be an appropriate choice of phrase for the two of them, both so desperate to maintain a friendship, that they seemed oblivious to the fact that the connection they had went far beyond that; Otherwise his self imposed exile in New York probably wouldn't have brought out quite the reaction it had.

"Yeah, I think I got that. Thanks, Eve." He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, embarrassment making him want to offer something more, something unworthy of the situation, but he held his tongue.

Sensing his discomfort, she shrugged, "Look, I'm going to get a glass of wine into her hands before she dissolves into a wreck. Do you want anything? A whiskey?"

"A Pint will do."

"Coming up." She took a few steps and stopped. "If she makes it here before I get back try and say something nice." Or something un-Boyd like, she wanted to clarify, but he was already staring across the room at Grace, the book still open in his hands. Yep, oblivious pretty much summed it up.

-0-0-


	4. Half An Hour Later

-0-0-

Well I'm finally writing longer chapters although its taking me longer because I am still recovering from a minor surgery, which should have taken two days to get over. The next chapter is getting a way from me because the two of the have so much to say. Hopefully it will be up at the end of the week at the latest.

-0-0-

It took her another half an hour before she finally made her way through the crowds to speak to him, but he knew she knew he was there, Eve had made sure of that. The half smile she gave him from across the room brought forth a genuine smile of his own, reassurance that whatever she might think she was still his friend. He had raised his hand and then she had disappeared again only to reappear a few minutes later, her eyes finding his above the crowd. The room had suddenly become warm, too confining, too oppressing, but as he turned, ready to bolt, he heard her voice.

"I'm sorry, there's someone I need to say hello to. I'm so glad you enjoyed this evening."

Her voice carried from one group to another as she made platitudes, inching her way until finally she stood before him, wine glass in hand.

"How many of those have you had?" he asked casually by way of his opening gambit, his own pint glass long discarded.

"I haven't been keeping track." Her eyes were a little unfocused, her cheeks a little warm and pink and she could feel a warmth edging its way down her throat. She'd had more than enough. "Good evening Boyd."

"Evening Grace." His smile morphed into a smirk as he took note of the flush of her cheeks and the tell tale sparkle in her eyes.

"I wasn't sure whether you would come or not," she stated matter-of-factly, not in the least inhibited by his proximity, her anger muted only by the alcohol and the fact they were in a room full of strangers.

"Then why did you invite me?" His eyes drifted downwards, avoiding her eyes as fleetingly he wondered if it was some sort of punishment for past misdemeanours.

She shrugged, a little annoyed with him already and they had barely spoken. "The book, Boyd. It took me ten years to write it, ten long years of sitting in that damn interview room with murderers, psychopaths and you."

Boyd wasn't entirely sure what to make of being bundled together with the dregs of society but he thought it best to keep his mouth firmly closed, lest she become offended and decide to quantify why.

"Tonight is because of everything we did at the cold case unit. I wanted you all to be here."

"Is it any good?" he asked, holding up the book and giving her a crooked smile, hoping against hope that making light of the situation was the right thing to do.

"Read it and find out," Grace countered, downing the rest of the wine and moving to lean against the wall at his side. He was irritating her and they had only been talking for a few minutes, sooner or later they would as if by rote be at each others throats. Better, she mused, to walk away now.

"Ah, Grace."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "It won't kill you. Look, I'm going to get another drink and talk to people who actually want to be here." She made to walk away, knowing that he wouldn't let her go that easily. Or would he, after all she had let him walk out the door, or rather in his case run for the airport.

He groaned and reached for her arm. "Don't be like that. You know what I'm like at things like this." She had frequently told him exactly what he was like, never holding back, her turn of phrase at times not unsuited to a builders yard. He much preferred when it was the two of them.

"I do," she replied quietly, lifting her head to look at him. "But this is important to me."

There was something in the uncertainty of her voice that chastised him sufficiently for him to release her arm. "I'm sorry."

Grace couldn't suppress the grin that tweaked at the corner of her lips. "Wow. An apology?"

"I'm not going to make a habit of it." Boyd gave her a small grin, before hesitantly asking, "What are you doing after this finishes?" There was a fight in their future, it was inevitable, but he had decided as he watched the uncertainty about her accomplishments rear it's head again that they needed to talk further. If they fought so be it but at least they could clear the air and salvage something from twelve years of friendship. And he would feel better and he really needed to feel better.

"Calling a cab and going home to bed."

He arched an eyebrow, a mischievous gleam in his eye, a reflex action, flirting with her so much easier than talking about things that were important.

"No, that wasn't an invitation." Grace shook her head. A year ago she would have jumped for joy at the prospect of being one of his women, but he hadn't made the offer and she had spent months realising that he would never seriously consider her in that way, that one drunken kiss would be the only thing they ever shared.

"How about we get some food? Talk about life post cold cases, or not," he corrected at the sudden look of sadness that paralysed her features, his own grin fading.

"And pretend that you didn't drop out of my life for over a year?" she hissed, instantly regretting allowing her emotion to get the better of her.

Inwardly he groaned, surprised that it had taken so long for her to say it.

"Boyd."

He turned at the sound of his name, said with something bordering on disdain. "Hello Sarah." Unconsciously he raised his shoulders, trying for his usual intimidating posture, as he moved a fraction closer to the petite doctor, in full protector mode.

Grace rolled her eyes, wondering which one she would have to reign in first, not entirely certain that she would even try.

"I need to head off. I've got a early shift tomorrow." She laid one arm across her mothers shoulders. "Do you need a lift home?"

Grace glanced up at him, a small smile gracing her lips. "I think I'll be fine."

"Oh dear god," her oldest child muttered. They were flirting again. "Really?"

"Sarah."

"A group of us are going to grab a Chinese. I'll make sure she gets home in one piece," Boyd announced, oblivious to the silent staring competition taking place in front of him. "You don't need to worry."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen." Her mother had been hung up on him for as long as she knew. He'd hurt her once and her mother was in no state to protect herself. "I'll call you tomorrow after my shift." Lightly she kissed her mother's cheek and shot him a look that was meant to kill but was like water off a ducks back, before walking off.

"Still doesn't like me, then?" he commented wryly with a grin as Sarah turned one last time and shot him another glare.

"You share certain qualities in common." She leaned further against the wall. "A group of us are going out?"

He shrugged. "I thought she might have the urge to ground you if she found out it was just me and you."

She nodded, only too aware of the lecture that she would receive the following day. "You are probably right. I need to say some goodbyes."

"I'll wait here."

"Or you could go speak to Eve and Spence," she suggested, her head tilting slightly, a hint of a smile on her lips. "He's not nearly as mad at you as you think."

Boyd arched an eyebrow. "Not nearly as mad?"

Grace shrugged nonchalantly as timidly her fingers toyed with the sleeve of his jacket. "Maybe if you phoned once in a while, took him out for a pint." Of course there was so much more to it than that, so much more that she had carefully smoothed over, and a whole slew of things that Spencer knew nothing about. "Try starting with hello and how have you been." Lightly she patted his shoulder before heading across the room.

His eyes followed her, his thoughts drifting to the last time she had walked away and he dropped his head to the ground. She had every right to hate him, to judge him for his last action but time and again she forgave him. This time he promised it would be the last.


	5. Entente

This was supposed to be part of the last chapter but I copied too soon.

-0-0-

They stood on the pavement outside the hotel, just the four of them, as they had that night on the bridge. A lot had transpired since then, a whole year where they had attempted to carve out new lives for themselves, some more successfully than others, and where upon reflection it had become obvious that the only thing they had between them now was Grace.

"Congratulations, Grace," Spence said, engulfing her in his arms.

"Thanks Spence." She stepped back out of his embrace, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "Good luck with the new team."

"Boyd," he said coolly, holding out his hand for his former boss to shake, a cold entente now carved between them. Hands shaken the two men returned to their corners.

Eve glanced between them and shared a conspiratory grin with the fellow doctor. It wasn't the first time the boys had fallen out, she doubted it would be the last; the only thing she and Grace could do was ensure they made it up, subtlety finding ways to bring them together. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us? We can go somewhere a little more sedate. Maybe for something to eat."

Grace hugged her briefly, kissing her cheek. "No, the two of you haven't seen each other in months. Go have fun, take care of each other."

"I'll call you next week."

As the two of them crossed the road to the car park, Grace turned to her companion, studying him, waiting him out. When he continued to stare into the distance she let out a frustrated sigh. "So what did you have in mind?"

He continued to stare at the road, at the passing traffic, the all too familiar uncertainty settling in. "I mentioned something about food."

"You did. But I may be a little more drunk than I thought." She swayed slightly as if to prove her point. In her youth she had been able to drink anyone and everyone under the table. Since the big C scare and the seemingly endless round of medications she could drink very little; it didn't stop her indulging when things became a little more than she could handle.

Boyd shifted to study her a little more carefully. "The fresh air making you a little squiffy?"

She laughed, "Squiffy?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "So if you're not fit to be out in public, how about we grab a take away and . . ." He considered his next words carefully, wary of offending her. "Take a taxi back to your place."

It had been a year since they had last been alone, the two of them abandoned in a pub, much as they had been this evening. In the days that followed they had packed up files and boxes and gone their separate ways. As much as she wasn't ready for the evening to end, she also wasn't ready to welcome him into her home, fearful that the lingering scent of his alcohol would bring back the feelings she had so carefully suppressed. "Your place is closer."


	6. A Way With Women

-0-0-

I hadn't intended to take quite this long to update but it seems the forces of nature (technology, health and time) conspired against me. In the meanwhile I have finally finished re-watching series seven so Boyd is fresh in my head.

-0-0-

"Make yourself comfortable and I'll grab some plates," Boyd instructed in his usual no-nonsense fashion, throwing his keys on the small side table and bolting the front door behind them. It was more out of habit than anything else but it momentarily struck him that she might read more into it, searching for a hidden intent. His eyes followed her across the room, his lips parting, ready to explain, but she seemed oblivious to the fact she was now locked in his townhouse, alone with him for the first time in a year. Instead he watched as she dropped casually into the chair in front of the window, and spun around to stare out into the night.

"Glasses too," she offered as an afterthought, already drawn to the distance lights, shielding herself from the memories that the garden below taunted her with.

It had been her idea to slip into the off licence to pick up a bottle of wine while they waited for the food and while it occurred to him that neither of them really should drink anything more, he chose not to comment, wanting so desperately to spend time with her. The effect that alcohol might have on that time was omnipresent in his mind but he told himself that if he was careful, vigilant, they could make it through a few hours without the world falling off its axis. He wasn't sure who he was trying to kid, but as he had watched her up on the stage earlier he had promised himself that he would try and fix the biggest mistake he had ever made, hopefully without the need to say sorry.

Tucking her legs under her, Grace made herself comfortable in the chair, watching his reflection in the glass as he poured the wine into a glass, turning as he carried it across to her. "Thanks."

"Don't blame me when you have a headache tomorrow," he sniped as he returned to the kitchen and continued to unpack the containers of food.

"Does that mean you're sticking around?" she asked quietly, knowing that he couldn't hear her, the words a false bravado on her part. The alcohol, while freeing her tongue, had yet to give her the courage she needed to challenge him, to ask the whys that had plagued her for the past year.

"There's plenty more if you're still hungry," he announced, handing her a plate and dropping onto the sofa.

"I think there's enough here." Lifting the fork to her lips she watched him over her food, accepting that they would lapse into a silence, one that once upon a time would have been comfortable but now carried every lapse in their friendship, the remnants of every argument they had ever had. He would steal tiny glances in her direction and she would look away, she would glance at him and he would pretend not to notice. It was childish but so fitting of them.

Sipping from the open beer can, he stole a look in her direction, barely meeting her eye before she turned away. "You're probably wondering how I can stomach living here."

Grace pulled a face, surprised by the directness in his statement. "I suppose I'm relieved," she offered after a minute or two of quiet consideration.

Boyd arched an eyebrow. "Relieved?" It was not at all what he had expected.

"You've taken responsibility for your actions but you're not blaming yourself. Moving would have suggested you haven't forgiven yourself for what happened. That's not healthy."

"I demolished the shed," he declared with a small shrug, as if questioning her assessment of him.

"I don't think I could have stepped foot in there either," she offered softly, her thoughts drifting to the young woman who had been so tragically murdered, swallowing hard as a wave of emotion washed over her. She took another mouthful of rice. "What are you going to put there instead?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips. "I thought a pond, with some koi, or maybe a vegetable patch, but that seemed a little labour intensive, and I don't think I'm ready to retire to pottering yet."

"Please don't tell me you're returning to work." The words rushed out of her mouth without a seconds thought, the very idea taking her by surprise.

"My police pension will only stretch so far." That was only half the truth. He was bored. He was frustrated. And returning to New York was not an option. If he didn't find something to occupy his mind and body soon he could quite easily go mad.

The thought terrified her; his obsession had almost got him suspended, arrested and killed at various points in their history. Their friendship was too tentative for her to stand by the watch him self destruct again but she had no right to interfere, maybe no right to care but she did. It was a discussion for another day, if they had one, and she would have to change his mind, or at least find something for him to do that kept him out of harms way. "I'm going to consult again now the book is finally finished. Broadmoor want an independent evaluation on one or two of their patients, they always need good psychologists, and the police work hasn't completely dried up." No thanks to you she wanted to add but she bit her tongue.

"Your pension is going to stretch a damn sight further than mine."

She shrugged, not taking the bait, the disparity in their earnings a constant source of teasing over the years. "And Sarah has some leave coming up. She suggested we take a holiday together."

"Really?" he asked, not trying to mask his surprise. In all the years they had worked together he couldn't remember her taking a holiday. She went to conferences, took leave to write, lecture, and sleep but sitting on a beach wasn't her style. At least he couldn't imagine her on a beach, lying still for hours at a time; of course he had tried to keep out of her private life and maybe that was exactly what she wanted to do. It was his idea of hell.

"She fancies the idea of trekking around India." Grace continued to eat, her thoughts becoming cluttered as the wine continued to have its effect. "Or China. I suggested she find a man, which in retrospect probably wasn't the best suggestion I ever made."

"Maybe she just doesn't like men."

Grace shot him a look. "Like that would matter."

"I'm not saying it would." He inwardly groaned. "Only that maybe that could be why she was so pissed."

"Or maybe it's just that she has been hurt by every man that ever stepped into her life," Grace stated, a bitterness to her tone, her eyes avoiding his.

The elephant reared its ugly head, filling every space in the room. The men in Sarah's life - her father, her brother, and Boyd. He took a deep breath, pulling his tie loose, as he asked petulantly, "So what is Sarah's problem with me?"

For a second her eyes widened in surprise before she cast them down, a deep sigh escaping her lips. "It's not really just one thing, Boyd." Where Boyd was concerned it was pretty much everything.

"It can't be because of what happened. She was a child, I was old enough to be her father," he practically shouted, his tone incredulous. I was in love with her mother, he thought, rather than voiced out loud. I'd had too much to drink. The list went on. One drunken flirtation had almost brought his friendship with Grace to an abrupt halt, and he had paid dearly to make amends, leaving it to the mother to break the bad news.

"I don't think it helped." Grace placed the empty plate on the table, surprised by how hungry she was. "She wasn't a child, she was becoming a woman and you broke her heart."

His hand brushed through his hair as he groaned. "Can you imagine how fucked up everything would have been if I'd slept with your daughter?"

"I try not to think about it." She didn't because even then she had been infatuated with Boyd; newly widowed, struggling to raise two teenagers alone she hadn't allowed herself to think about a relationship, so much easier then to brush Sarah's declaration as nothing more than a crush too. The girls hatred for Boyd had only intensified since. "I think she considers you a rival. Like its always been some competition between the two of you for my time. I don't know how many nights I spent in the concrete bunker with you when she needed me."

"It wasn't by choice."

"Thanks Boyd," she said with a half smile.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "But look at it from her point of view, her father dies and instead of being home I go back to work, with you. I didn't even wait for the two of them to bugger off to uni before I took a full time all encompassing job."

"Because you needed something too." While their acquaintance had started before Jack's death, he had only really began to see her as a friend afterwards. She had been grieving when he offered her the job, lost after years of caring for a sick husband and determined to make a life to support her kids. The workaholic in him had found a soul mate.

Grace, changed position, stretching out her legs. "I should have put them first. And of course she thought there was something going on between us. We were cheating on her father, defaming his memory, having an office romance."

"Surely she is more rational than that. She's a doctor for christ's sake."

"She was a teenager, Boyd, an adolescent who was grieving for her father, angry at her mother, in love with her mothers boss and preparing for university. She was pretty fucked up before I told her that you weren't interested in her," Grace explained, her tone weary. "It was only when she was living away at uni that she started to forgive me."

His head dropped back against the arm rest of the sofa. "But not me?" It bothered him and he had no idea why. It was something he should talk to Grace about.

"I think she's still embarrassed."

"And that's all?"

Grace arched an eyebrow and offered quietly, "We tell each other everything."

Boyd sat up abruptly, his eyes wide, realisation sending blood rushing to his head. "She knows? You told her?"

She gave a small shrug. In all fairness she had been drunk and pissed at him when she made the mistake of telling her daughter about the kiss. Sarah had taken it as a common reason to hate him until she realised her mother felt entirely differently. Either way there was no way of taking it back.

"I need another drink." He rose to his feet, intent on getting drunk before they continued their conversation. He made it half way across the room before he remembered his manners. "Do you want anything?"

In light of where the conversation was heading, Grace debated saying no and calling a taxi. More alcohol would inevitably end in an argument or her falling asleep where she sat, neither was satisfactory, both would probably result in an end to their already fragile friendship. Better that she clear her head and try and have a rational conversation. "Coffee, Boyd."

"Coming up." Of course that also meant he would be switching to coffee, the alcohol already dulling his senses. "Why don't you stretch out on the sofa, you look done in."

"As charming as ever."

"Grace," he almost growled in annoyance. He really was trying to keep things normal, hoping that she would realise that they could go back to the way they were. He was no good at it but then he had always relied on her to brush over his failings. Something told him it wasn't going to be anywhere as easy this time.

"I'm not going to say no," she called after him as she took the few steps to the couch and dropped onto it. "I'm just pointing out you still have a way with women."

"Don't I know it," he griped, flicking the switch on the kettle and leaning back against the counter. "Don't I know it."

-0-0-


End file.
